


Treasured

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Collars, D/s, Flogging, Good BDSM Etiquette, Mild breath play, Mr. M and Kitten, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Spanking, Threesome, light Knife Play, pirate draco, smut smut smut and nothing but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 09:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: The continuing stories of Mr. M and Kitten. It's Hermione's birthday and Draco has agreed to arrange one of his most elaborate fantasies. Hermione will be stranded on a desert island and captured by Pirate Draco...but this time he's brought a friend along to join the fun.





	Treasured

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
> 18\. Roleplay

Looking back on it, it was probably Draco’s handwriting that she fell for first. He’d been working at the Ministry for a few weeks when his report on “Proposed War Monument Funding” dropped on her desk. It was a long, dull breakdown of a six thousand galleon budget and yet it held her rapt, simply because of his gorgeous, flowing script, narrow and left slanting with elaborate flourishes and the most beautiful Cs she’d ever seen. It had surprised her to see his name at the bottom – his signature a piece of art unto itself – and ever since that day she’d looked at him quite differently.

She remembered this while staring at the note he’d left beside her collar, right there in the middle of the breakfast table where anyone in the world could have seen it (were anyone to actually show up unannounced at their flat). Hermione snatched up the black leather and buckled it around her neck as she read the card laying open on the table.

> _Your bag is with me along with your wand, love. I have everything except for what you should wear today, which is hanging on the back of the bathroom door._
> 
> _Don’t dawdle, Kitten, the jungle is harrowing at night._
> 
> _The portkey is that bottle of GOD AWFUL green juice you make me endure each morning. Exactly what is on the bed and that bottle are all you are permitted to bring._
> 
> _You’ll be shipwrecked on a desert island after all._
> 
> _I can’t wait to see what washes ashore._
> 
> _Happy Birthday,_
> 
> _Mr. M._

She quickly showered and shaved, pulling her hair back into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. Hanging on the bathroom door was a simple white cotton dress trimmed in lace. It was knee length with little cap sleeves and entirely see through when she stood in the light. There was no lingerie so she slipped it over her bare skin, shivering at the sensation of the cool fabric brushing over her nipples.

Clearly, she was already excited.

The portkey took her to the shore of a picturesque island set on a sea turned golden in the fading sunlight, white sand soft beneath her bare feet. There was no sign of Draco anywhere. No packages, no notes, no snobby little aristocrat waiting with his eyebrow arched. She was truly alone. Turning to find her way, she approached the edge of what appeared to be a dense, shadowy jungle. As she stepped closer a torch flickered to life, along with another a bit further into the underbrush. He had left her a trail. She picked over the uneven, root covered floor of the muddy jungle in her bare feet, her thin white dress little help in the growing chill as the sun fell below the horizon, everything cast in hazy purple.

“Mr. M?” She called out into the trees as another torch flared to life a dozen or so meters in front of her, the two behind her snuffed out. No choice but to go forward.

She was deep in the trees, little sounds of night time birds and chattering animals her only guide as she tried to search the darkness. There were no buildings, no tents or caves to duck into, just the occasional torch roaring to life to guide her way.

“Hello?” She called out, with no answer.

As she broke through the tangled underbrush, a branch caught the sleeve of her dress and tore a hole in the seam. A thorn sunk deep into her foot and she hissed in pain. It stung enough to bring tears to her eyes as she pulled it free, blood seeping from the puncture. A real injury that would leave a real scar.

But this was what they both liked about their play.

_“It has to be real,” Hermione had said to him early on in their relationship. “I want to feel like I’m in another world, a different set of rules completely. I want to be someone else.”_

_"No fuzzy pink handcuffs then?” Draco asked, nuzzling her neck. Leave it to Hermione Granger to want to have a discussion on the philosophies of sexual fantasy when he was trying to work his way into her skinny jeans. “No black latex mini skirts and naughty nurse costumes?”_

_“No,” she said, rolling him onto his back and straddling his thighs, rocking her hips against his as she bent down to kiss him. “When you dominate me I want to feel the pain of it, the fear of it. I want my heart to race with adrenaline. I want to sweat and cry and scream and come like it’s the last breath of my life. I don’t want it to be half way.”_

It was pitch black, nothing ahead of her but a torch in the darkness and she was limping, cold, thirsty and tired. If she screamed out her safeword would Draco appear beside her or was she truly alone in these trees until she managed to find him?

As if on cue she heard a rustling to her left. The crunch of boots, long, quick strides; someone who knew where he was going.

“Hello? I’m…I’ve washed up on the beach…I’m alone and I have no shelt…”

She looked up and the word died in her mouth, her eyes wide. Standing in the glow of the final torch, was her best friend Harry Potter.

* * *

Draco had planned the fantasy for nearly two months, ever since Hermione had asked him to chose one of his own for their next adventure. The island south of Italy belonged to a friend of the Malfoy family and he’d cleared out any inhabitants for a few days, hiring out the beach house on the South end of the tiny island for the two of them to recover after their play.

Or rather…for all of them.

They’d experimented with threesomes early on in their exploration of fantasy. Hermione had been teasing him mercilessly while she made dinner, telling him filthy fantasies she’d had while in school and asking him what he’d always imagined about her.

_“I imagined you and Luna having a snog in the prefect’s bath,” he said, sipping his wine. “Perhaps a little…handsy exploration…” _

_Her cheeks had blushed a delicious scarlet and he smiled, standing up to perch beside her at the stove, nearly vibrating with excitement at having sussed her out._

_“You did,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “You snogged the girls at Hogwarts you little minx.”_

_“Not in the prefect’s bath, you clichéd brute. And a lot of girls experiment in their youth,” she said, laughing. “And she was open for…anything.”_

_“God Granger don’t tell me that. I’ll have her over here before the day is out.”_

_“Oh will you?” She said, abandoning her cooking to lean against the counter. “And what would you have her do?”_

They never quite made it to dinner.

Not long after that he’d expressed his own occasional interest in men and when they’d invited Theo Nott to join them one New Year’s Eve, Hermione had been in a post orgasmic haze for nearly a week after and Draco had felt particularly at peace with having acknowledged a desire he'd kept hidden for so long. So when he began planning the desert island trip his mind had wandered back to how she’d responded to the attention of two men at once.

_Harry sat down next to him at the pub with a beer, peering at the different notes and maps that Draco was working on. When they played...it was a full blown production. He would not be outdone._

_“Work?” Harry asked, butting his nose in where a chosen savior was so rarely needed anymore. Still, it wasn't as irritating as it once was._

_“Hardly. Planning a birthday surprise for Hermione.”_

_“Oh? That is around the corner, isn't it. Can I help at all?”_

_Draco stared at him for a long minute. School, the war, their rivalry, it was all long gone, an ugly wound in their life's history. In fact, having had such a strange and traumatic childhood the veterans of the Potter War were closer than many other graduating classes of Hogwarts. They often all met for dinner or drinks after work on Fridays these days. They all gave hugs and perfunctory kisses on both cheeks, they made risque jokes and told spicy stories, but Draco had never taken the time to actually look at him. His hair was still a ridiculous dark mop, but with the little shadow of facial hair he now wore on his squared jaw it seemed to suit him. His glasses were more fashionable too, framing those beautiful mossy green eyes that Draco had always envied. _

_God dammit. Harry was hot. _

_“Well,” Draco said, his eyes wandering down to Potter’s tight, black sweater that clung to well developed pectoral muscles, his arms lean and chiseled. “That all depends on how open you are to experimentation old chum.”_

“Well well,” Harry said, stepping out of the brush. “What have we here?”

He was dressed in black leather riding pants and black boots just like Draco’s and a loose white shirt unbuttoned to his navel, revealing a beautiful expanse of chest with a dusting of dark hair and the hint of a tattoo over his heart. He wore black leather gloves, gripping a thick coil of rope in one hand and a knife in the other.

“I…I…Harry…” She was frozen in place, looking over her shoulder for Draco.

“Who?” Harry asked, stepping closer with a mischievous grin, his eyes glittering in the torchlight. “Boss sent me out looking for treasure in the jungle and it seems I’ve found it.”

“Y…Your boss?”

“Mr. M,” Harry said, walking around her, running one mud streaked hand across her shoulders and down her back. “He’ll be so happy to see what I’ve found. We’ve been so lonely out on this island.” He pulled her hands behind her back and wrapped the scratchy thick rope tight, coiling it up to her elbows before tucking the knife into the belt of his low slung pants. "You can't imagine the things we've had to do to keep ourselves occupied," he murmured against her ear. “So just tell me little one,” he said, pulling her back against his chest, the stubble on his cheek scratching her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “if you’ve ever had _enough._”

And all the torches went out.

_“What if I were to surprise you?” He’d asked her before that first time with Theo, pouring a pitcher of water over her hair as they sat in the bath. It was where they had their most…stimulating conversations. “What if you came home one day and someone else were in our bed waiting for you…with my permission of course?”_

_“Oooh, an interesting conundrum Malfoy,” she said, but her answer took a moment’s thought. “Well, there are only a few people in the world I would trust to be a part of our…fun.”_

_“Of course,” Draco said, massaging her favorite raspberry thyme shampoo into her scalp. “Theo…”_

_“Yes. And Luna. Maybe…maybe Hannah…” she paused for a minute and then, her voice low and unsure she added “Harry.”_

_Draco stopped massaging. _

_“Harry…Harry…do we know a Harry…” he teased and she reached back to pinch his side. “Have you really shagged Harry ‘Better Than Merlin’ Potter? I never…”_

_“We were alone in the forest for a long time. It was cold…Ron had left us there…we shared a bed in a small tent to keep warm. And we were…teenagers. Lonely, emotional teenagers. Snuggling lead to snogging and snogging lead to…other things…”_

_Draco closed his eyes and found it extraordinarily easy to imagine the three of them in bed together. Everyone in school had always joked that Draco and Harry were not rivals but actually deeply in love. Blaise even sent Draco a false Valentine bouquet fourth year FROM HARRY and it sat in the Slytherin Common Room for weeks, much to Draco’s consternation. _

_“Mmm,” Draco whispered in her ear. “What a beautiful little triangle we’d make. You, me and Harry. His olive skin and dark hair next to mine, your body writhing between ours, four hands stroking your skin, two mouths, two tongues…”_

_“Draco,” she breathed, leaning back against him. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”_

In the darkness Hermione let out a scream and Harry quickly slapped his gloved hand over her mouth, his other arm tight around her waist. She could feel his sweat slicked chest through the thin fabric of her dress as he hissed in her ear.

“Go on Little One, scream all you like. Trust me when I say there’s no one here to rescue you.”

He held her still, trapped with her hands bound behind her, and uncovered her mouth, his hand roaming down her throat, over her breasts, leather brushing over her nipple, pinching and twisting until she cried out again. He'd mentioned her safeword as soon as he'd arrived and so she trusted he knew the rules of their game and it allowed her to give over completely, losing herself in the role Draco had assigned.

“Let me go,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere with you,”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, pressing his hips into hers as he wrapped both arms around her torso. “You’re so very wrong.”

Draco had arrived a day earlier in order to transfigure some bits of wood and tree branches into a ramshackle “bunker” where they would meet. It was exactly as he’d pictured, and was just the sort of thing Granger would love…no fluff, no plastic, no fancy equipment. The floor was smooth, lacquered wood, and there was a wide, rustic bed (he did include elf woven sheets because there were some things a Malfoy simply wouldn’t skimp on), but the chains and shackles were heavy, dark metal. The rope was scratchy and thick. An old wooden tub, rickety wooden chairs, whiskey and rum…it had everything they needed for a night full of play.

Harry and Hermione apparated into the shack and he pushed her forward, letting her fall to her knees in front of Draco. She looked exactly how he’d imagined, exactly how he’d fantasized…worn and torn and desperate…her hair a tangled mess, braid half undone, mud smeared across her cheek, a tear in her dress. There was always something so beautiful in her distress, because her face was always the same: stony and determined. No matter what the world threw at her, she would not be broken. Yes, she would cry, she would be frustrated, she would experience pain and disappointment and sadness, but never once had Draco seen Hermione Granger give up.

He got up out of his broken wooden chair and stood in front of her crumpled form, crouching down to lift her head up by the hair, twisting it side to side as if inspecting a purchase.

“My my, what have we here?” Draco asked, smiling. “A pretty little castaway washed up on our shores?”

He too wore the black leather gloves that Hermione loved so dearly, how they slapped against her ass, how they felt brushing over her skin, how they tasted in her mouth. Her eyes wandered around the room she found herself in and Draco gave her a slap on the cheek to get her attention.

“Oi, girl. I’m talking to you,” he said, holding her chin firmly in his hand. It never failed to impress her how many accents and attitudes he had at his disposal. A creativity that she always claimed was sorely wasted. He would have made an incredible actor. “You lost in the jungle, Kitten?”

“I..my ship wrecked…I’m the only survivor. I’m thirsty and tired…”

“And wearing a collar,” Draco said, hooking his finger beneath the leather and twisting it just a bit, just enough to make her uncomfortable. “Are you someone’s pet? Running away? Misbehaving? In need of...discipline?”

“No sir,” she said, her eyes bright with tears, her cheeks a deep red as her air was restricted. “I…I’m just lost. I’m alone. With no one…”

He let go of her and she fell forward, gasping for breath as he stood, clicking his tongue.

“Poor poor little kitten, lost in the jungle with two…very lonely men,” he said. “I suppose you’d like a bit of fresh water, maybe a piece of meat, a place to rest your pretty head?”

She felt Harry behind her, pulling the ponytail holder from her braid and threading his fingers through her hair almost gently (he’d always loved her hair) pulling it back away from her face, stroking her like a pet while Draco paced the room.

“Yes please…sir,” she said, keeping her head bowed although she wanted desperately to look at him in his black leather riding pants and boots, his white linen shirt unbuttoned to his navel. The minute she saw him she’d wanted him on top of her.

“You can call me Mr. M, Kitten,” he said, smiling deviously. “And this is Mr. H.”

“Yes Mr. M,” she answered. “Thank you.”

She was sitting on her knees now in her usual open position, her head up, thighs spread, Draco and Harry on either side.

“If you want to eat girl, you’re going to have to earn it. Are you willing to earn it?”

Harry pulled her hair and wrapped it around his fist, bending her neck backwards as Draco stepped forward, palming his length through his trousers.

“Answer the man,” Harry snapped, holding her tight.

Hermione licked her lips and gave Draco a bit of a smile.

“Yes Mr. M, whatever you need.”

“Ohhh, Harry,” Draco said, unlacing the top of his riding pants. “We’ve found a slut to entertain us. Why don’t you undress her for me.”

”No wait...I...” she feigned resistance, looking between the two men who eyed her with hungry stares that she felt deep between her spread legs. 

Harry bent her head back further and kissed her on the mouth. It had been a long time since Hermione had kissed him, but the shape of his lips, the feel of how they fit against hers rushed back to her and she opened to him, knowing that Draco was watching, wanting…waiting for her. For him she gave the performance of her life, sucking at Potter’s tongue, moaning against his lips.

As they kissed, Harry produced his knife, dragging it along her jaw and down the tender length of her neck, pressing it just lightly to the hollow of her throat, just enough for her to feel the sting of the edge.

“Stay still, little one,” Harry whispered, licking at the shell of her ear. “Or you might get hurt.”

She nodded solemnly as Harry stepped around to stand in front of her, running the knife easily through the front of her dress, tearing it two. He grinned, dark and mischievous as he pulled the sleeves off and pushed them over her shoulders with the tip of the knife, drawing it lightly down her arm.

“Oi mate, look at these tits,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder at Draco who was trying very hard to look bored, unimpressed, but Hermione knew better, although she didn’t let on.

“Yes, quite…heavy…aren’t they?” Draco said, stepping forward to cup one in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the nipple until it stood out, hard enough for him to pinch and twist until she cried out, falling forward a bit. “And sensitive. I have something for that. Go on, ol' chap, drink your fill while I look for some little trinkets.”

Without even a blink, Harry dove forward, kissing her hard on the mouth, his hands sunk deep in her damp tangle of hair. She bent back, giving access to her neck, the vulnerable skin of her throat, slick with sweat. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Draco calmly rummaging in a tiny black chest, his ass a gorgeous profile in matte black leather. Without realizing it, she moaned and Harry gave a growl of approval, his mouth moving to suckle at her breast, one of his thumbs stuck in her mouth for her to lave while she watched Draco approach, a pair of black butterfly nipple clamps dangling from his gloved finger. While she hollowed her cheeks around Harry’s thumb she caught Draco’s eye and he winked at her, his grin sultry and wicked.

“Come on then,” Draco said, gently pulling Harry away from her by the hair. “Come up for air, boy.”

She watched eagerly, her pussy beginning to throb as Draco kissed Harry on the mouth; a wet, sloppy kiss, their tongues twisting as Draco held firm to Harry’s nape, Harry’s hand moving down to stroke Draco through the soft leather. Watching them together for the first time was enough to make her blood bubble with shivering arousal and she reached her hand down between her legs, stroking just once at the soaking wet cleft as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, sliding down to grip his ass. Draco’s eyes drifted in her direction and he stopped kissing Potter’s neck.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his eyes immediately dark, molten steel, his lips curled into a sneer that she could feel deep in her belly. “Did I tell you to get yourself off? Did I tell you to move?”

“N…no sir. No, I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me, old friend,” he said, kissing Harry one last time, “Seems our guest needs a quick lesson in who’s running this show.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said, bowing and stepping back.

For a few glorious moments, it was just Hermione and Draco as he stalked towards her naked form, swinging the clamps around his finger.

“Stand up please, Kitten,” he said, no trace of a smile.

A wave of fear shivered through her but she did as he asked. When she was stood tall, her head held high in defiance he bent forward, gently kissing each of her rosy pink nipples before applying the delicate metal clamps to each one, a slightly heavier chain than she was accustomed to dangling between them. He stood back to observe her creamy warm skin, glistening with sweat, contrasted with the black clamps and chain. She was like a beautiful piece of jewelry, a work of art, a particularly well-crafted chandelier. She hissed the pain through her teeth for only a moment before standing up straight again, her back arched as she looked him in the eye.

“You are here for _our_ enjoyment tonight, Kitten, not yours,” he said, drawing his finger down between her breasts and tugging on the chain to renew the pinching sensation. “We are not here so you can frig yourself to a frothing climax in the corner, do you understand me, pet?”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry Mr. M.”

“Hmmm, yes. Still, it’s important that we really drive the point home,” he said, tugging lightly at the chain to pull her face close to his. “You’re not going to cry now are you?” He whispered, his voice low and venomous. “So kissable, that pouty little mouth,” he said, tracing his leather clad pinky around the outline of her lips. “And I’m sure it will be beautiful with a cock shoved inside it, don’t you think?”

“Yes Mr. M,” she whispered, placing a kiss on the tip of his gloved finger.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb stroking over her cheek. For a moment she could see his eyes soften, his smile change. The _real _Draco showed up and he leaned into her ear. “Happy Birthday Granger.”

And she smiled.

But only for a moment as he dropped the chain and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stand up against the post, face first pet.” He pointed to the thick wooden post in the middle of the transfigured shack, waving his hand to shoo her in that direction. “Harry, could you get her settled in for her lesson?”

Harry nodded and pulled her hands over her head, locking them into the heavy shackles that hung from an iron hook at the top of the post. She was stretched long, naked, balanced on her tip toes, back arched, but still held her head high, the black clamps on her nipples turning them an angry, beautiful red. He blew a cool stream of air over each, making her whimper at the heightened sensation.

"Squirmy girl," he said, laughing, smacking the bottoms of her breasts with an open palm before stepping away.

Her ass was presented beautifully and Draco ran his gloved hands over it, sliding one finger between her legs before spanking each cheek lightly. Hermione teetered and squealed but kept still, her eyes focused on Harry who had taken off his shirt, the laces of his own leather pants undone so that they hung low on his hips. His tattoo was a snitch with a sword driven through it, black ink covering nearly half of the left side of his chest.

“Come over here mate,” Draco said. “Watch how red this ass gets.”

She felt the soft tails of the flogger brush down between her shoulder blades, over the length of her spine. Draco teased her with the hard leather handle, slipping it between her parted legs, rubbing it between her slick lips, but quickly removed it when she whined and pushed back, seeking some sort of release. Again she felt his hand on her skin, his breath near her ear.

“My goodness but you're a randy little slut. Be a good girl now and don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”

“No sir,” she said, resting her cheek on her stretched biceps.

He, whether it was Harry or Draco she couldn’t tell, struck her with the flogger on each ass cheek, five or six times. It was soft, worn leather and the sting was sharp but short lived, leaving a constant blooming heat of pleasure behind and she tipped her hips backward, searching for more.

“The slut likes it,” Harry said, “I’ll bet that cunt is dripping wet.”

“Go on then,” Draco said, slapping Hermione’s hip. “have a taste.”

She spread her legs and swayed her back, giving Harry better access to her wet heat. At the touch of his tongue she moaned, throwing her head back as he knelt behind her, holding the cheeks of her ass apart with strong, calloused hands. She felt Draco’s hands on her breast as he stood at her side, kissing her neck, the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear, running his tongue over her skin as he whispered to her,

“You like that kitten? You like opening yourself to another man while I watch?" He tickled the tails of the flogger over her nipples that were now aching, so sensitive she was nearly brought to tears at the slightest touch, the pleasure nearly overwhelming. "I can see his tongue stabbing into your cunt, love, glistening wet, it's dripping down your thighs. Its got me so hard watching him tongue fuck you. I wonder what it tastes like.”

Holding firm to Hermione’s chin with one hand, Draco guided Harry to stand before pulling him back into a deep, wet kiss, sucking at the dark haired man’s tongue and nipping at his lip with his teeth. Harry’s arm snaked around her waist and his hand moved down between her legs from behind to stroke her as Draco moved to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. The three of them traded kisses as the two men fondled her, all of them sharing breath, their heads pressed together, mouths moving, tongues twisting and dipping. Her arms ached from being stretched above her head and she moaned into Draco’s mouth.

“Please sir. Please let me down,” she said, shuddering as Harry continued pumping two fingers inside her, slowly, too slow to give her any kind of relief, but enough to make her want to beg for more. “I want you. I want you to fuck me,” she breathed.

“Anxious little shipwrecked slag this one,” Draco said, reaching up to unfasten the shackles around her wrists. “Very well little kitten, but you’ll have to undress us.”

Her hands dropped and Draco took a moment to rub the joints of her shoulders, rotating her arms while grinding his hips into hers.

“Feel that, kitten?”

“Yes sir,” she said, tipping her hips backwards, her head resting on his shoulder.

“You can have it, but you need to take care of my...friend first,” Draco whispered in her ear as his fingers stroked down her back, over the tender, heated globes of her ass. “Go on, get him ready.”

The three of them were near the bed and Hermione reached out to finish unlacing the black leather laces on Harry’s tight pants. He’d been a teenager when last she’d been with him, his body quite different. Auror training had given him chiseled, lean muscles and a few pale scars, reminders of his strength and bravery. His skin was darker, a bit more weathered now, with a dusting of hair on his chest and a darker trail below his navel. Draco stood behind her, his hands on her hips, chin on her shoulder, watching right along with her as she pushed the leather pants down over Harry’s narrow hips, revealing the thick length of his cock.

“What a lovely surprise that is, don’t you think, Kitten?” Draco whispered into her ear, grinding against her ass. “Do you think you can take it all?”

“Y-yes sir,” she stammered.

“Good girl,” he said, nipping at her earlobe before pushing down on her shoulders. “Let’s see what a good cocksucker you really are.”

Her knees hit the hardwood floor and she looked up at Harry, his eyes glittering a beautiful mossy green in the torchlight. He looked dangerous, the scar on his forehead, nothing but a badge of honor now, the scruff on his jaw a sign of strength and the devious grin on his lips a warning. Still, she could see her best friend beneath it all and she trusted him.

“Go on then, mate,” Draco said, walking around to watch. “Fuck that pretty little mouth.”

Harry sunk his hands into her hair, guiding her forward and she opened her mouth, flicking her tongue over the weeping tip of his erection before sliding her lips over his shaft, taking him deep, to the back of her throat.

“Fuck yes,” Harry groaned, pulling back only to thrust back in slowly, far enough to make her gag.

“Too much cock for you, love?” Draco asked.

She shook her head and looked up at Draco’s smoldering eyes, his lips in a tight line.

_“I’m surprised that a spoiled little brat like yourself would be willing to see your woman fucking another man,” she said to him one morning while they were drinking their tea on the patio. _

_“Spoiled brat…how dare you,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “I’m surprised a fine feminist witch such as yourself would refer to yourself as anyone’s woman.”_

_She knew smoking was a terrible habit, dangerous and dirty; but there was something so taboo and forbidden about it that whenever Draco lit up she found herself getting fidgety. It was the way he held it between his beautiful slim fingers, how he actually looked like a dragon, blowing the smoke out over her head. He knew what it did to her. They liked to rile each other up._

_“Of course I only mean in terms of sexual partnership, Malfoy. Still, I always have taken you for the jealous type. When Dean sent me a jumper for my birthday last year you shrunk it down and put it on the cat.”_

_"Looked better on the cat. Thomas claims to be your good friend and buys you a mustard colored jumper ?”_

_“You’re avoiding the question, love,” she said, putting a hand on his._

_When he looked up at her eyes, wide and questioning, he saw that this wasn’t silly banter to her. He saw that she wanted to know what she meant to him, and it made his heart ache to realize that perhaps she didn’t know. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close, kissing her forehead before locking her gaze._

_“I’m willing to watch you fuck another man because I know that it gives you pleasure to do it. I’m willing to fuck other women and men because I know that it gives you pleasure to watch it. What would break my heart would be to see you snuggling against them on a Sunday morning, wearing their quidditch t-shirt. It would make me seethe with jealousy if I saw you making them butter and honey sandwiches when they had a hangover or letting them wash your hair while you soak with them in the bath. I don’t care what you want to call it to make it proper…you are my woman, and I don’t want any other; and I trust that you don’t want any other man. You, Hermione, are all that I need."_

_She smiled then, her cheeks red, her eyes glittering with tears as she sat back in her chair, drawing her knees up to her chest. _

_“That’s a good answer,” she said, taking another sip of her tea._

He did like watching her with another man. He liked seeing that other man’s eyes roll back in his head when she sucked him off, her cheeks hollowed, eyes closed. Even as she bobbed back and forth over Harry’s length she could see that her hips were rocking, her knees spread wide. If he touched her she would be dripping onto his hand and it made his cock twitch just to think about it.

He moved to stand behind Harry, to watch Hermione over his shoulder, suddenly overcome with a desire to touch Harry’s skin, to feel the hair on his chest, the ripple of his stomach muscles, tensing and flexing as she sucked.

“He’s going to come,” he said to her. “I can feel it."

Harry tipped his head back onto Draco’s shoulder, exposing the long column of his throat to Draco’s lips and tongue as his hands slid down to touch Hermione’s face.

“Amazing, isn’t she?” He whispered in Harry’s ear. “And she’ll swallow every drop you give her, won’t you Kitten?”

She turned her eyes up and nodded as she bobbed forward, her hand working the base of his shaft as she licked and kissed the head of his prick.

“Unless…” Draco said, turning Harry’s face so he could capture his lips. “You’d rather someone else finish the job.”

"Fuck Malfoy..."

She stopped moving and pulled back. Looking up to watch the men kiss, her breath halted at the sight of these unexpected lovers, so opposite each other, dark and light, rugged and refined, their mouths melting together as Draco reached down to stroke him.

“Tell me Harry,” he said, his hand working fast, Hermione still on her knees in front of them. “Tell me you’ve imagined me sucking you off. I know you must have, even if it was only yesterday. I’ve imagined it. I’ve imagined having you on your knees in front of me, choking on my cock more times than I can count.”

"I...I..." Harry only grunted his response, thrusting hard into Draco’s hand. Hermione flicked her tongue out over the head, capturing the pearlescent drop at the tip.

“I’m afraid he’s not much of a talker, Kitten, but I can feel him, he’s ready. Open up, love.”

He kissed Harry one last time as he came, hot spurts of his seed dripping down Hermione’s cheeks, puddling on her tongue, coating her lips. She lunged forward to clean him with her mouth, to draw out the last drops of his seed while Draco cooed his approval, stroking her hair.

“Messy girl,” he said, licking her cheeks and kissing her open mouth, tugging at the chain between her breasts to make her gasp. “Crawl over to the bed for me,” he said, slapping her lightly on the hip.

He loved to watch her crawl, to see her naked body moving across the floor in the golden torchlight, all the soft lines and curves, the hill of her hip, the sway of her spine. The added feature of the delicate nipple clamps gave her an air of majesty that he would have given anything to photograph, to hold in his memory forever. She’d shaved the night before and he could see the glistening pink of her cunt between her thighs, waiting for him, nearly beckoning to him. She climbed onto the bed and stayed on all fours, leaning down onto her forearms, her ass high in the air, still red from the flogging, covered in pretty, feathering stripes. He spanked her twice, drawing out a squeal before he bent down to kiss the heated flesh. Harry slithered up beside her, limp and sated, curled at the head of the bed to watch the two of them together.

_“Ginny says he’s very adventurous,” Hermione said one night while they were at dinner with Theo and Blaise, having had far too much wine. “Dare I say even more kinky than you, Theo.”_

_“Right, I’m leaving,” Theo said, draining his drink. “This offense will not stand.”_

_They’d all collapsed in laughter but she’d seen how Draco’s eyes had lit up, his eyebrows raised. In the heat of their play he’d often told her of his fantasies, that he’d imagined arguing with Harry, their rivalry coming to a head and ending with a passionate shag up against an alley wall. But he’d also assumed that Harry was walking the narrow and VERY straight path. Muggles, he’d told her, were so hung up on those things; propriety and normalcy and sex for procreation and nothing else._

_“What a waste,” he’d said. “Thank goodness you found me to show you the way.”_

She whined as Draco teased her with his fingertips, tickling up and down, dipping inside her wet center, circling her clit, stroking down either side.

“Eager little slut,” he muttered under his breath, unlacing his trousers. “So slick and hot. I could fit my whole hand in here if I wanted to. What do you want, Kitten?”

“You,” she said immediately, pushing back against his touch. “You Mr. M. Please.”

“Oh listen to her beg,” he said, sinking his fingers inside again, pumping slowly, his thumb teasing her slick nub. “It’s music to my ears.”

With his other hand he grabbed her hair at the nape, pulling her head backwards, arching her back.

“Let’s hear that again, love. What do you want?”

He pushed his hips against her so she could feel how hard he was, how had denied himself long enough. In front of her Harry was lazily stroking himself, his erection already recovering as he watched her writhe and buck on Draco’s fingers.

“Whatever you want to give me sir,” she said, her eyes flicking up to meet Harry’s, her whole body thrumming with energy at seeing the lust in his eyes.

At the touch of Draco’s tongue to her slick lips she groaned like an animal, her head dropping forward as she focused everything on his ministrations; his long fingers spreading her open, his lips sucking her clit, his tongue sweeping inside her. She shook and whined and he dug his fingers deep into her flesh.

“Don’t you come,” he growled. “I haven’t told you, you can come, dirty girl.”

“No sir. No,” she panted, her eyes still on Harry.

He smiled and stroked her cheek, his thumb running over her lip and into her mouth. Draco pulled away and smacked her ass playfully before kneeling behind her, lining up with her entrance. She closed her eyes as his hand ran up her spine, settling on the back of her neck. He folded himself over her and leant into her ear.

“You ready to get proper fucked, Kitten?”

He drove in with one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt as she wailed in ecstasy. No one had ever been able to fill her as exquisitely as Draco did. Every time he sunk inside her she was reminded of the first time, hidden in the coat room at a Ministry function, his hand covering her mouth to muffle her cries as he took her up against the wall. Now, with one hand on her neck and the other on her hip he drove in again and again, grunting and panting with each heavenly thrust. In front of her Harry was stroking his cock, now as dark and thick and hard as he was before, his fist working furiously to bring himself off. Hermione licked her lips, trying desperately to keep from coming before she was allowed.

“You want her mouth again, mate?” Draco breathed, his rhythm slowing. “Go on...she’ll finish you off, won’t you girl?”

“Yesss…” she hissed, her arousal reaching a feral, unquenchable state. She couldn’t get enough of either of them. She couldn’t be filled or licked or fucked enough. Her blood boiled at the thought of it.

Harry knelt in front of her and guided himself between her lips. With every one of Draco’s thrusts forward he hit the back of her throat and she hummed around his thick shaft, reaching beneath to cradle and massage his tightening balls.

“She’s a good girl,” Draco breathed, and she could tell he was nearing the end, his hips stuttering, his breath quickening. She clenched around him, drawing him deeper. "My good, perfect girl."

“Please sir,” she cried, letting Harry drop from her lips. “Please let me come.”

He moved faster and she knew that there would be bruises on her hips in the morning. Harry fucked her mouth with short, fast strokes, holding her jaw.

“You’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you?” Harry asked. “You can take it all, slut. I'll fill your belly with hot come.”

She looked up, her eyes glowing with lust and he pumped his seed deep in her throat, warm and thick as she sucked the final drops from the tip.

“Yes sir,” she said. “Yes.”

“Fuck girl,” Draco panted. “I can’t hold on…go on, come for me.”

With one final thrust he emptied inside her and Hermione howled with her own orgasm, her body a white hot star, her lungs empty as she tried to cry out for him. He felt her walls tighten around him, milking the last of his come deep in her womb and his heart stuttered; his vision blurred. Everything stopped as they were locked together. While he caught his breath he watched Harry kiss her, their tongues twisting and slipping before he pulled back with a nip at her bottom lip. He slipped out of her heat and crawled forward to kiss Harry himself, to taste him, to taste Hermione, to thank him for what he’d given. When he pulled away Harry smiled, flopping backwards onto the bed.

Hours went by before they got any real sleep, but as the sun crawled over the horizon, the three of them were tangled in the white sheets of the bed, Hermione in Draco’s arms, her head on his chest, and Harry curled against her back, his arm around her waist. She woke before either of them and watched Draco sleeping. She loved seeing his face in repose: no tension, no worry, his features soft and beautiful. He looked like an angel. So deceptive. She smiled.

“Will you never grow tired of my beauty?” He asked, not opening his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s breathtaking.”

“God you’re a shit liar, Granger.”

He kissed her forehead and pulled his arm out from under her, climbing out of the bed. She propped herself on her elbow to watch him moving around the ramshackle cabin he’d created, as always, entirely comfortable in his nudity. He went through the little black lacquer box he’d retrieved his flogger and clamps from earlier and brought out little jars of cream to rub into her bruises and a moisturizer for her nipples. After setting them on the bed he reached in and pulled out one last item, a small green box.

“Come on little kitten, let me wash you up.”

Soaking the bath was their usual aftercare ritual. This bath was wooden, deep and round plopped down right in the middle of the jungle, the sunlight dripping through the canopy of trees. Draco washed her hair and massaged her shoulders, carefully stroking her nipples and the bruises on her hips.

"Thank you for this, Draco," she said, smiling. "I know it was your fantasy in the end, but it all felt so good, and this is such a beautiful place. You did a wonderful job."

“You were such a good girl for me,” he said, letting her rest back against his chest. “And I think the Chosen One had a lovely time.”

“I do too,” she said. “I told you he was adventurous.”

“Mmm,” he answered. “Now I’ll have to see what that fiery little ginger minx of his is like,” he said, laughing out loud when Hermione splashed him in the face.

"When you two come up for air, could I get a soak?" Harry asked, wandering out of the cabin into the sunlight, the sheet from the bed wrapped around his narrow hips.

She was still wearing the collar when they went back to bed and he traced his fingertips over it, running down to the hollow of her throat, over her collarbones. Draco had sent Harry on ahead to the other side of the island, asking for a few hours alone with his girl. They lay in the bed and listened to the sounds of the jungle around them, the slow lapping of waves against the shore. Hermione smiled and sighed, closing her eyes to his gentle touch.

"Do you remember what I told you the last time I buckled this on your neck?" He said, his fingers tickling down the length of her arm to her hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Yes," she said. "You said you'd find a way to claim me permanently. A tattoo...a piercing...a brand..."

"A ring..."

She opened her eyes and saw that he was holding the small green box he'd gotten out earlier. Flicking at the top with his index finger he revealed a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring set in platinum.

"Draco..." she could barely breathe. The sun caught the facets of the jewels and it flashed, bouncing flares of light off the walls.

"The best way to keep my little Kitten is to probably sign some sort of legally binding paperwork and give three hundred of our friends a free meal. So, Hermione Jean Know It All Gryffindor Swot Brightest Witch of Her Or Any Other Age Granger...will you please, and this is the only time I will beg, please, marry me?"

He'd brought a second bag of clothing for her...a beautiful pale blue gown to match her new engagement ring with some comfortable white sandals, and when the two of them were dressed he guided her out of the cabin to the trail that lead out of the jungle. The trees opened up to a beautiful white sand beach and a tent filled with people who applauded at their appearance, hooting and hollering with joy. She first caught Harry's eye, then Ron and Ginny. Theo and Blaise and Luna were there...even Dean and Hannah, all of them smiling ear to ear. Beneath the tent were tables full of food and flowers, candles and presents and giant white cake with pink and yellow flowers like she asked for every year. Hermione felt her throat tighten, her eyes sting with tears. Draco held her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles as the crowd parted to lead her to the lit candles. Beyond everything they would ever do to together, every adventure and kink they would explore, she realized that this had always been her greatest fantasy; to have everyone she loved surrounding her, contented and safe, wishing her and her fiance a lifetime of happiness. He could try all his life, but Draco would never be able to give her anything better.

"Happy Birthday Granger," Draco whispered, pulling her into his arms. "Go on, make a wish."

But she only smiled and blew out her candles. There was simply no need.


End file.
